After shoving me off of him and stomping out of the room, Vance had the audacity to use my shower and lay down in my bed. To make matters worse, when I got in the bed next to him, he got up and left the room, choosing to sleep on my couch instead of just driving back to his place to spend the night. It was like he wanted me to know he was out there pouting, but I refused to get up and beg him to come back to the room. So, I slept on my bed, and he took the couch. I should’ve kicked him out of the apartment, but I chose to take the high road and get some sleep. Unlike him, I never want to intentionally be mean to my partner.

I haven’t heard anything from Vance since last night. When I woke up this morning, I put my ear to the closed door of my bedroom, but heard no movement coming from the living room, so I hopped in the shower and started my routine as usual. I spent fifteen minutes getting my body nice and clean before taking another ten to do my makeup, and another five to get my hair together. I have to spend my entire day in the office editing photos I took of a sporting event at Dover High School and a pride event downtown, so I chose a simple updo with a few loose strands to hang on the sides of my face. After slipping into a black blouse with a knee-length skirt, I stepped out of my room to find Vance sitting on the couch. He’s wearing a plain white button-up with blue jeans, so I assume he went home last night and changed, but his face is still carrying the same bitterness he had when he tossed me aside. When I walk in, he looks up at me with both of his forearms on his knees, scowling.

“We need to talk,” he says, and when I step closer to him, I realize my book is sitting on the couch next to him, with the bookmark I’d wedged in it resting all alone on the end table.

Fury rises in my chest for two reasons. First, how dare he remove my bookmark and make me have to find my place again. I mean, that’s just fucking rude. Secondly, while I’m afraid of letting my darkness out, I’m also so tired of being judged for trying to be open. I wish Vance was capable of being a sounding board for me. I would love to explore this thing inside me with him, but instead, he just judges me and makes me feel like shit about it, and I am exhausted.

“Okay,” I reply, pinching my lips together as I look back and forth between the book and the bookmark. “I hope you’re about to start with an apology.”